


Quand à Paris

by AugustIsComing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Paris - Freeform, artist!Samandriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustIsComing/pseuds/AugustIsComing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excuse me, sir? I was wondering if you'd allow me to paint you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I made this http://holmesishome.tumblr.com/post/86812475312 and this story just... Happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exquis

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my lovely babu Basia, for beta reading this and making me turn it into an actual fic rather than just leaving it as an idea. You are the bestest, and this wouldn't exist if it weren't for you. I won't even mention the fact that you actually named this thing. Sigh. What would I do without you? (crash and burn yes we all know)
> 
>  
> 
> (PS: French speakers... I'm sorry if I am screwing your gorgeous language up with the titles.)

Street artist Samandriel worked in a corner of Paris in order to save money for art school. He left the United States in order to move to France a while ago, and lived with his cousin Balthazar so rent would not be one of his worries.

He liked the corner he had picked to work at, right by a café, and across the street from a small square. Sometimes Samandriel would stay in the square’s bank rather than in his little spot by the lamp post, painting birds, bugs and flowers that he would sell for exceptionally little or give to Balthazar as a gift.

The sun was shining in an exquisite manner despite the Parisian winter, and the air smelt of coffee and croissants the day Samandriel spotted this odd stranger making his way in the café.

He was the owner of a different kind of beauty, and Samandriel was an artist, so, really, who would expect him to resist the temptation?

He approached the stranger - a dark haired, light eyed man, who was at least a foot taller than his five foot three. The brunet had a jawline decidedly sculpted by God and destined to belong to angels. But it belonged to him, and Samandriel wanted to own it as well, which was the reason he was walking up to him in the first place.

“Excuse me, sir?” Samandriel said, trying not to feel as small as he was next to the man, stopping him just before he took the first step in the café. “I was wondering if you’d allow me to paint you.” The blond pointed to his painting material, making sure his French was as perfect as he could muster, feeling self-conscious before the man’s scrutinizing look.

“I wouldn’t have the money…” The guy’s accent was obviously Canadian, and Samandriel wondered if he spoke English as well before actually realising what he had said.

“No! I wouldn’t charge anything, of course!” The American shook his head. “You simply have interesting features, and I’d like to try and paint them!”

The guy made this super suspicious face and seemed to be considering it, so Samandriel pulled his best innocent expression, fixing the beanie on his head.

“Well, I’m sorry but I have a meeting in a few moments, and wouldn’t have the time to model for you.” The stranger finally let out, an apologetic expression taking over his face.

Samandriel hid his disappointment over the attractive man obviously having a date smiling, as he at the very least got the man’s permission.

“Don’t worry, you won’t need to.” Samandriel said, taking a step back. “Ah, if you’d like to see the result… Maybe you should give me your number.” He was not hitting on the man. He was simply offering his model the opportunity to see the painting of his own face.

The stranger hesitated but asked for a pen and paper. Samandriel watched as he wrote his number and name down. “Gadreel.” An odd name to match a strange face, creating an exquisite man.

“I’m Samandriel, by the way.” The artist said, smiling. He was about to say he could call him “Alfie”, a name people tended to find much easier to enunciate, but Gadreel nodded and shook his hand.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Samandriel.” Samandriel thought his name sounded like a melody in that deep voice. Its pronounce was as perfect as it got, and the shorter man found he liked to hear Gadreel say his name. “Thank you for the interest… On my face.”

The brunet scrunched up his face in a very cute manner, as if unsure of what he’d just said, but he let go of Samandriel’s hand and the artist finally seemed to snap out of his Gadreel-induced trance, turning back to his paints and canvas.

 

Alfie was too occupied painting to remember to watch Gadreel’s date walk in the café, but he did notice the dark haired man leaving with another guy a few hours later, half way through painting the green bus that had been Gadreel’s background, so he didn’t dare to walk up to him and say goodbye.

The artist finished the painting that very same night, just before the café closed and he was glad that he still had the time to get a cappuccino before walking home, because the cold had begun to settle now that the sun was sinking behind the cities’ buildings.

He could call Balthazar and have him pick him up, but he liked to walk around. Paris on its whole made him think of an art piece, its gorgeous history surrounding every inch of pavement and water and grass, the breath taking architecture making sure not to be forgotten by jumping on his vision field every corner he turned.

Samandriel felt more at home here than he did anywhere, ever. He felt like Paris and himself clicked, and it was a lovely feeling.

 

Samandriel had used thin layers of oil paint as well as siccative, and he hung the painting on the living room wall, the most ventilated room in the flat, but still the paint wouldn’t dry.

Walking past it every day for weeks was cheer torture. Maybe he had done way too good a job with capturing Gadreel, because he could still watch the man’s face moving and his jaw working as he talked and his eyes shining under the afternoon sun.

Samandriel had promised himself he’d wait for the painting to be dry before he called the man portrayed in it, and that was the reason why only three weeks later he finally put the painting down, and picked his phone up.

He regretted using oil paint as much as he congratulated himself for it. On one side, he knew that it was a very good piece of artwork, maybe one of his very best, but on the other hand it had taken so long to dry he now wondered if Gadreel still remembered his existence at all.

The artist finally got himself to call Gadreel, his heart pounding against his chest as he waited for the man to pick up.

“Hello.” He heard the thick accent that had been resonating in his head all the time lately and his lungs stopped working, words sticking to his throat for a moment.

“Hi. Uh, is this Gadreel?” Yes, of course it’s Gadreel, who else would it be? “I’m… This is Samandriel. I’m the weird artist with a fixation for your face? We met outside that café once…” God, he was making such a mess out of himself. He was twenty one, for God’s sake, not fifteen!

“Oh, hi!” Gadreel said, and Alfie didn’t know how to interpret his surprised tone, so he decided not to try to. “Yes, I remember you. I thought you had given up on painting me, though.”

“Of course not!” Samandriel denied immediately, and he rolled his eyes at his own eagerness. “I mean… Why would I?” Not better, not better at all, Samandriel. “Anyway… I was… I was wondering if you’d like to see how it turned out.” Alfie blushed as if the man could see him. He just couldn’t understand why he was this flustered. It was simply dumb.

“I’d love to.” Gadreel breathed out and it got Samandriel’s heart to dance a samba in his chest.

“Great. Meet you at that same café later today, then?” The blond questioned, trying to keep his tone normal.

“See you this afternoon, Samandriel. I should be there by four.”

“See you, Gadreel.”

 

Gadreel scoffed when he saw the expression Samandriel chose to put on his face, that same suspicious face he had made when the artist first approached him.

“It is a gorgeous painting.” He commented, keeping himself from touching the canvas. It was so odd to see his face on one of these oil paintings. They always felt reserved to saints and kings. He was truly far from either.

Samandriel, watching the brunet’s face, was pleased out of his skin by Gadreel’s seemingly honest appreciation of his work.

“I’m glad you liked it. I do as well.” Samandriel took a last look at the painting, reminding himself he had already taken a picture of it, so it was okay to let it go now, and held it out for the much taller man. “So there you go...” The blond smiled.

“What!? No! You said you weren’t charging, I can’t pay for this…” Gadreel exclaimed, but Samandriel shook his head.

“No, Gadreel. I’m not asking you to pay for it. I’m giving it to you.” He frowned. “Unless… You don’t want it. In which case, it’s okay, I understand…”

“That’s not it, Samandriel. I just… I couldn’t possibly take this for free.” The brunet’s face showed how clearly distressed he was. Samandriel liked that his expressions were so blatant.

“It’s a gift. For being my muse.” The shorter man smiled.

Gadreel finally sighed and reached for the painting, carefully holding it and watching it closely.

“Samandriel M?” He questioned, looking down at Samandriel with a raised eyebrow.

“Samandriel M.” Alfie replied simply, nodding as he distractedly picked his stuff up.

“So that’s your surname?” Gadreel teased. “M?”

“Yup.” Samandriel said, making it obvious that he was lying.

“Okay. So will you at least grab a coffee with me, Samandriel M, or I can’t even pay you like that?”

“Not a coffee person.” The artist finally collected all of his material, and he straightened himself up, trying to look at least a bit tall but failing miserably close to Gadreel.

“I’m trying to get you to go on a date with me here. What you order is not of import, really.” Gadreel said, smiling a bit smugly.

Samandriel frowned. “I’m sorry, but weren’t you on a date with some guy here the day we met?”

“What!?” Gadreel was confused. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, but it had probably been longer than three weeks. “Oh, no! I told you I had a meeting. Work related meeting.” The brunet explained.

“Oh. Well, in that case…” The shorter man offered Gadreel a small smile as he stepped towards the café. “I feel like having a croissant. That’s of much import, in my opinion.”

"If you say so..." Gadreel mumbled, unable to hide his smirk as he held the door open for Samandriel.

"You know, I'd tell you to wipe that smirk off your face..." Samandriel said with a sigh as they picked a table. "But I got to admit... I kind of like it." The blond blushed, smiling shyly up at Gadreel over his menu.

"Good to know." Gadreel declared. "I should probably keep that in mind." He offered Samandriel a wider smirk before focusing on the menu.


	2. Nom de Famille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samandriel's surname was his one mystery, the one thing about him not painted on a canvas for everyone to see. It only made sense he would want to hold on to it for a bit longer, as he and Gadreel got to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an edit that goes with this, if you're interested:  
> http://holmesishome.tumblr.com/post/100445299052

“Are you never going to tell me what your last name is?” Gadreel questioned, trying to stay put on the exact spot Samandriel told him to stand on.

The shorter man mumbled something unintelligible at his canvas, barely sparing him a look before going back to moving his brush expertly.

“Are you?” Gadreel pressed, not particularly happy about this. The couple was in a park, and the petite blond was painting Gadreel in the exact place someone once took a photography of Paul McCartney, even though the Canadian had explicitly said he didn’t care much for The Beatles. Samandriel had then proceeded to explain it was a school assignment, as well as his excuse for their fourth date.

“Why do you even want to know?” Samandriel’s forehead creased under both concentration and curiosity.

“Well. You know mine, don’t you?”

“Indeed, Gadreel Sierra Johns.” The shorter man flashed him a smile over the canvas, and then set his brush down into a jar of lilac/greyish water. “I’m done. Come and see.” He prompted, drying the brush in a cloth and starting to put away his material.

Gadreel walked over to him, facing the canvas for a moment before shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculously talented...” He informed Samandriel for the hundredth time, eyes skimming his own face on the painting. “I just don’t understand your tendency to paint me with… Odd expressions.”

“Thank you. I like your odd expressions.” Samandriel said. “Can you carry my bag for me, please? I better be careful with this.”

Gadreel simply nodded, taking the black bag as Samandriel held the painting in one hand and the support for the canvas in the other. He managed to stick it under his arm safely so it would not fall and held his painting with the same hand so he could hold the other out for Gadreel to take.

There was no hesitation in his part, and they walked to Samandriel and Balthazar’s apartment hand in hand, chatting about various subjects, not saying much.

Samandriel was surprised by how easily they had fallen into this… Routine, of sorts. It was the fourth time they went out together, and they had already made out quite a lot, but he didn’t understand why it was so easy to slip his hand into Gadreel’s much bigger one. Could not process the fact that he somehow felt safe around him, as if they knew each other for a very long time, and he could trust Gadreel with his everything.

He wanted to spend eternity painting that man, archiving every single detail about his face, about his smile, the colour of his eyes, his skin… He wanted to paint Gadreel under sunlight, under starlight, under streetlights, under every lightning possible.

And he wanted to spend eternity and a day touching him. Learning the texture of his skin and the sound of his laughter. He wanted his own skin to memorize Gadreel’s fingerprints, and he wanted his lips never to forget how soft the brunet’s were.

It was maddening, feeling so much, after so little time. Samandriel felt like an infatuated teenager, like some high schooler falling madly in love with their first crush.

And as Gadreel shy but firmly kissed him goodbye, he knew he couldn’t care less if it was somehow childish or rushed or whatever. He liked this. He liked this too much to let it go.

“K.” Samandriel said, just before Gadreel left, holding onto his hand.

“What’s okay?”

“No. The letter “k”. It’s in my surname.” The blond explained, feeling a bit silly now.

“Oh. So we’re playing that game, are we?” Gadreel lifted an eyebrow amusedly.

“You betcha.” Samandriel winked and picked his stuff up before making his way to his flat.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mikkelsen?” Gadreel asked, his fingers entwined in Samandriel’s thin locks of blond hair, looking down at the man resting his head on his lap. They were sharing the sofa in Gadreel’s living room, had been just discussing their plans for the Holidays a few minutes before.

“What?” Samandriel was utterly confused, having been too worried about using both of his hands to hold up and fiddle with Gadreel’s free one, he didn’t understand the sudden change of subject.

“Your surname.” The brunet’s thick accent travelled down Samandriel’s spine and he shivered.

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s a “v” in it.”

“Why won’t you just tell me? Is it that ridiculous? Do you really hate it that much?”

“Nah, I don’t mind it.” Samandriel said distractedly, going back to focusing on Gadreel’s hand, realising as he half-heartedly counted his fingers that five was the number of dates he and the brunet had been in now.

“Then why won’t you tell?” It was starting to bother Gadreel for real, Samandriel could tell, but it was his one mystery, the one thing about him not painted on a canvas for everyone to see.

“So, my brother, Castiel, he’s got a boyfriend. And he, Dean, can be kind of an ass, right…” The blond started telling, trying to distract Gadreel, dropping his French and speaking in English instead, not looking up to his eyes as he spoke. “And Cas has got a thing for weed. He doesn’t smoke too much or anything, just for fun, sometimes. It’s the only time when he loosens up a bit…”

Gadreel’s fingers were distracting him from his story, short nails scratching his skull lightly in a very nice way. Samandriel was going to go mad.

“So, anyway…” He continued with a small shake of his head. “This one time when I was a sophomore and my brother was a senior... His boyfriend threw a house party. And Castiel baked brownies. Y’know. That kind of surprise brownie that gets you so high you can’t stop laughing…”

“I’ve never tried marijuana.” Gadreel said somewhat hesitantly, cutting him off.

“No!?” Samandriel looked up in surprise. “Wow. I’m going to get you majorly baked someday, hold me up to it…” The blond promised, starting to play with Gadreel’s hand in his once more. “Anyway. Cas got me high as fuck. And there was this guy in the party, this Alphred guy. And I’d never been with a boy before in my life, and he got me inside a locker and he kissed me. And he tried to get in my pants, but I was too far gone, and Castiel eventually noticed I was missing, and set the whole party to look for me, so it didn’t happen…”

“I did not take you for the partying type. Or the party pooper one.” Gadreel cut him again, one eyebrow raised high, and Samandriel shook his head, red colouring his pale cheeks.

“Anyway, end of the night, Dean is the only one who was not completely wasted, so he got me and Cas in the back of his Impala, and he drove us home, and all along I could only talk about Alphred, how hot he was, how good it had been… And it hadn’t been that good.” The blond made a face, and Gadreel kissed his frown. He chuckled shyly before continuing. “But I was gay, I knew I was gay, and I felt like I finally had some proof. And for some reason I thought I needed proof. So I boasted about him all the way home.”

“Is there a moral to this story, besides making me not want to prove weed?” The taller man asked playfully when Samandriel made a pause to blush and look away, finally dropping his hand.

“ _Yeah_. So, Dean always had a problem with my name. And I had given him a perfect nickname without even realising it.” Samandriel sighed, frowning again. “From that damned night on, he only ever called me Alfie, and, really, it’s way easier than Samandriel, so it just stuck. Everyone back home calls me Alfie except for family.”

“Alfie…” Gadreel rolled the silly nickname around his tongue, and for once Samandriel thought he wouldn’t have to just “not dislike it”. If Gadreel stuck to it, he would have loved being called Alfie. Hell, he was pretty sure Gadreel could call him anything, and he would take it happily. “I prefer Samandriel.”

Samandriel smiled widely and reached out to cup the taller man’s jaw, who got the message and leaned in to kiss him.

It felt like ecstasy, kissing Gadreel. It was like getting into a hot tub after standing naked in the winter chill. The blond smiled through the kiss, and he revelled on the small pecks Gadreel dropped on his cheeks and jaw afterwards.

“You just ran from my question again, though.” Gadreel mumbled in the crook of his neck, holding him close a few moments later, when Samandriel had moved onto a sitting position, straddling the brunet’s lap.

Samandriel hummed and licked a path of exposed skin on Gadreel’s neck. He tasted of autumn and cinnamon and shivers. The shorter man groaned, and he felt Gadreel freezing under him.

“You have my name and my stupid nickname, now. And two letters. The rest is not that important.” Samandriel whispered, cuddling closer into Gadreel’s chest. “What is important is that we move from this couch to your bed.”

The brunet sighed, and held onto Samandriel’s waist tightly. When he got up, he carried Samandriel to his bedroom as if he weighted no more than a plume, and it knocked all of the air out of the blond’s lungs for some reason.

He was carefully laid back on a queen sized bed, and, as his head hung from the feet of the mattress he looked up to find his first painting of Gadreel on the wall right above him.

“You hung it on your bedroom wall!” The artist exclaimed excitedly, sitting up way too fast and getting a bit dizzy in the process.

“Of course I did. Where else would I put it?” Gadreel said dismissively, getting rid of his and Samandriel’s shoes before pulling the shorter man into his embrace and manoeuvring both of them around so he cover both of them with the comforter that had been on the bed. “It’s amazing. And it’s mine. I want to both show it off and keep it all to myself. So I suppose… This is quite fitting.”

Samandriel looked up at Gadreel, his chin resting on his hand, which was on top of the brunet’s chest, and the expression on his face was one of admiration at its rawest, purest state.

“You…” He started lowly, his voice filled with emotion. “Are amazing. And mine. And I want to both show you off and keep you all to myself. So I suppose… Being here. On your bed. With you… It’s quite fitting.”

Gadreel hauled Samandriel up, settling him on top of himself and he crossed his arms behind Samandriel’s neck so he could bring him close and kiss him.

A couple of hours later they were both a bit too giddy and giggly, kissing and laughing and touching and teasing, and Samandriel was truly not expecting Gadreel to hold his face on both of his way-too-huge hands and whisper “stay with me” in a very serious tone, out of the blue.

The blond was not going to say no to that, though, and they kissed once more before he nodded his agreement, and Gadreel wrapped himself around him, Samandriel’s head atop his chest, hearing the taller man’s heart beating against his ear.

Their breaths were synchronized and Samandriel was sure that so were their heartbeats when they fell asleep a few moments later.

 

* * *

 

 

Gadreel and Samandriel’s tenth date marked an exact month since they’d first gone out and they went to a creperie, Samandriel’s favourite one.

The blond was enjoying a crepe enthusiastically, when Gadreel brought the subject up once more.

“Samandriel.” He called for the man’s attention, watching intently as he moved his light blue eyes up to his face.

“Yeah?”

“What’s you surname?” Gadreel asked, his tone serious, his French making the words sound almost sung. It had to be the hundredth time he asked since they had met.

Samandriel swallowed, smiling shyly.

“McKeever.” He declared, watching for Gadreel’s reaction. “It’s Irish.”

Gadreel frowned.

“Sorry to disappoint…?” The blond offered nervously, his body tense.

“You didn’t.” The taller man assured, reaching for his partner’s smaller hand, holding it on top of the table. “It just didn’t… I’m a bit shocked, to be honest. That you told me.”

Samandriel relaxed.

“I’m sorry for all the suspense.” He said, biting down on his crepe and chewing before continuing. "I just… I don’t know.”

Gadreel simply nodded, not because he understood, but because it was okay, and Samandriel smiled, shaking his head before they both went back to eating in silence.

 

“I’ve got a present for you as well.” Gadreel told him a few hours later as they walked hand in hand to his apartment.

“I didn’t get you a present, Gadreel.” Samandriel suddenly felt guilty. It was their one-month anniversary after all.

“You told me your surname.” The taller man explained, squeezing Samandriel’s fingers lightly.

“That’s hardly a gift.” Samandriel shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“I did.” Gadreel shrugged it off just as they reached his apartment building.

“Thank you.” Came Samandriel’s small, emotion filled voice a few moments later.

“You haven’t seen it yet.” The brunet said disapprovingly.

“But you… You did it.” The shorter man stopped them, standing in front of Gadreel on a step ahead of him so he didn’t have to look up so much so he could look the taller man in the eyes. “You’ve been so amazing. And I’m so, so glad we met. I can barely believe it’s been a month!”

Gadreel shook his head, leaning down so he could kiss Samandriel’s lips.

Sometimes Gadreel moved like a statue that had been still for an eternity until that moment. It made Samandriel feel like his touches and kisses had been what brought the man to life, and maybe that was a bit self-centred of him, but by the way Gadreel held him – hands grasping his waist, bringing him closer, pressing their bodies together as much as was humanly possible –, he was not that far off from reality.

The blond often wondered how many lovers Gadreel had had before him, he wondered if _they_ could be considered lovers at all, when they hadn’t had sex yet.

But it was so easy to make love to Gadreel. To kiss him with adoration and be kissed back with just as much devotion. There was something about him, something mystical, something beyond Samandriel altogether.

The taller man had developed the habit of carrying him to places every now and again, and usually Samandriel was against that idea, but that evening he couldn’t care less as he was carried from Gadreel’s front door to his bed.

Their shoes and socks had been dropped along the way, as was Gadreel’s shirt and Samandriel’s skinny jeans, and when the brunet set himself on top of Samandriel, what was about to happen was blatantly obvious.

Samandriel was not nervous, but he was almost vibrating in his state of excitement and lechery as he reached out, burying his fingers in Gadreel’s short hair, which was just long enough to allow him to do it.

When Gadreel looked into his eyes, Samandriel couldn’t help the low “I love you” which left his lips.

His eyes widened at the realisation of the magnitude of what he had just said, but he didn’t feel like taking it back, ever. It was true, he noticed, just as Gadreel finished processing what he had said.

“I love you.” Samandriel repeated, surer, louder, a small grin tugging at his lips. “And I want you to fuck me tonight, so let’s move this along, shall we?”

Gadreel laughed, he full on laughed, and the vibrations of his body travelled through to Samandriel’s, and he had never felt this close to someone in his whole life. And definitely not someone this beautiful.

“Oh, my love…” Gadreel shook his head lightly, and leaned down to kiss him. Intensity should be Gadreel’s second name, Samandriel thought as they emerged from the kiss, both of them breathless.

Gadreel wasted no time, moving his lips down Samandriel’s jaw, kissing and licking and humming his way through it, as if Samandriel were the most delicious thing he’d ever put his mouth on. The shorter man put his hands on his bare back, using his short nails to scratch him and bring him closer.

Samandriel could feel Gadreel rock hard against his thigh, and he could tell their size difference may just be a problem, but it didn’t matter. They’d work around it. He was not at all opposed to having Gadreel’s fingers prepping him for a very, _very_ long time.

Their clothes were all removed and thrown towards random spots in Gadreel’s room, and Samandriel found himself fully naked under that mountain of a man. He knew he should feel vulnerable, but all he could feel was safety. He trusted Gadreel blindly, and when the man started kissing a trail down his body, Samandriel accepted it gladly, even begging for him to “just get on with it” as Gadreel chuckled and mumbled “patience, my love” against his skin.

Gadreel’s mouth on his cock was the most erotic sight Samandriel ever had, and any doubts that he had done this before were thrown out the window, along with whatever was left of the blond’s composure.

Gadreel used his shoulders to keep the smaller man’s legs apart, his finger coated in Samandriel’s spit poking and probing and breaching his puckered brim, fucking him carefully as he sucked on his cock.

“F-fuck!” Samandriel yelled, holding onto the bed sheets for any support he might get. His fingertips burned with the effort. “Have you _no fucking gag reflex_? W-what the actual…”

He was shut by Gadreel inserting two fingers between his parted lips, and then three, and he sucked harder on his cock, hollowing his cheeks so Samandriel knew what to do with them.

They came back to his hole wet and positively _filthy_ , and the blond moaned and pushed down onto the intruders eagerly.

A litany of obscenities in languages that varied from French to English to one of the Athabaskan languages left Gadreel’s mouth when he had finally moved inside, his cock buried deep inside Samandriel’s body, almost too big, almost too far in.

There was a hint of pain, even though Gadreel had made sure to stretch him wide with his fingers, but most of all there was pleasure.

Samandriel felt like he was in Heaven, each of the taller man’s thrusts – they were slow, calculated, _sinful_ – making him moan or almost sob in pleasure. Samandriel crossed his legs behind Gadreel’s back, bringing him further in, changing the angle slightly, and suddenly Gadreel had reached his prostrate and Samandriel was melting.

He threw his head back, his neck exposed to the taller man, who took no time before dropping open mouthed kisses to the reddened, sweat-slick skin.

To Gadreel, Samandriel tasted of his grandmother’s biscuits and the feeling of falling just as you are beginning to fall asleep and winter.

His warmth was all over, and it was _so_ welcome. Gadreel wanted to freeze this moment, he wanted to be able to feel like this forever. This loved, this complete, this _amazing_.

Making love to Samandriel had been something roaming his mind for a long time now, and it made all his fantasies and shameful wet dreams feel faint and blank.

Nothing could be as ethereal as this, as their foreheads glued together, as kisses and promises of love being exchanged between hungry lips.

When he dared to look, he could think of nothing quite as sexy as Samandriel’s face as he took him in.

Gadreel slowed his pace even more as he felt his orgasm building, lifting himself a bit, their sweaty skin making nefarious noises as they were separated.  Samandriel looked up at him, his lips parted, somewhat confused by the loss of contact and warmth, but then Gadreel took his cock in his hand, and pumped him in time with his thrusts, a very low  “I love you” leaving the taller man’s mouth as his thumb brushed Samandriel’s slit, pushing him over the edge.

Gadreel came with a groan and sigh right after him, the pressure Samandriel’s clenching hole put around him making him lose all his self-control.

A few moments later, condom discarded, the mess of come on their chests cleaned away, Samandriel found himself lying limply on top of Gadreel, their sweaty naked bodies still gluing together here and there.

They were absolutely disgusting, and the whole room stank of sex, but Samandriel couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be, what with Gadreel’s fingers entwined in his hair, caressing his scalp lazily, and, really, there was no strength left in his body to do much more than breathe.

“I forgot your gift.” Gadreel said out of the blue, pulling Samandriel out of his half asleep daze.

“It’s alright, Gad…” The blond mumbled, cuddling closer to him. It was so comfortable and warm, he might just cry if Gadreel tried to move away.

“No, it’s not.” Gadreel said outraged.

“Shush. You can give it to me in the morning. I’m not going anywhere.” Samandriel assured him, his hand going to his face and caressing his cheek very lightly. “What is it, anyway?”

“A bonnet. Red. So you can be like those classic Parisian painters.” Gadreel said, finally relaxing under Samandriel’s body once more. “You look… Cute, in hats.”

“Cute?” The artist questioned, feigning scorn as he pulled Gadreel’s earlobe.

“Very much so, in fact.”

“I want to be taken seriously, not look “cute”.” Samandriel went on with the act.

“Well, you’re seriously cute, if that helps.” Gadreel said playfully, his free hand holding onto Samandriel’s waist.

“Oh, neat.” Samandriel kissed the brunet’s neck, chuckling at their silliness.

“Neat? Are you sure you want to be taken seriously?”

“Oh, _tais toi, brute_.”¹ He mumbled, lying his head in the crook between Gadreel’s shoulder and his neck. “Let me rest. You wore me out.”

“So did you.” Gadreel said, but silence fell after that, and not much later he was snoring lightly, not really making any sound, but Samandriel could feel it vibrating on his chest.

The blond smiled to himself, and let the sound of the man's respiration guide him into Somnus’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹. Shut up, brute. (Btw they kind of shift between English and French, but I don't know French and it wouldn't be very practical.) 
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo hmmm, yeah? I kinda used Tahmoh Penikett's origin as Gadreel's, in case anyone wonders where the hell I took some stuff from. He seems to love his indigenous Grandma and I love it hence the mention to grandmother's biscuits.
> 
> I can't believe I actually wrote another chapter to this, to be honest, because I suck at multi chapter stories. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my babu Basia for the support, as always.


End file.
